


The Best Things in Life

by Fischadler



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fischadler/pseuds/Fischadler
Summary: At the height of his career, Atobe Keigo was once hailed as the King of the tennis courts... but he always fell second to the relentless force that is Tezuka Kunimitsu. Now in a slump, unmotivated and losing form, Atobe can’t seem to catch a break. Hopefully his new coach might shake things up.





	

_‘... and Atobe serves... Out!’_

_‘241 kilometers an hour. The renowned Tennis King is famous for his powerful serves, but his accuracy has been off this tournament.’_

_‘Right. He barely made it past the fourth round against Robertson. And to his luck, he’s pitted against number one seed in the quarterfinals the undefeatable Tezuka Kunimitsu. This is a rivalry to watch between countrymen.’_

_‘Agreed. And he’s preparing for his second serve... Out again.’_

Pause.

Rewind.

Atobe Keigo sat forward in his seat, squinting before pressing the play button. Because there was no way that serve was out... And there it was! It was barely touching the line. Dammit! He should have contested... but it’s too late for that now. But it was just so annoying and frustrating, because this wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s the one and only King. And he didn’t get that nickname from getting knocked out in the quarterfinals by that untalented loser. Except...

He rewinded the recording once more.

It was definitely in... Possibly.

_‘-his second serve... Out again. The players are changing court.’_

_‘You can see the look on Atobe’s face. He’s clearly not happy with his performance. And Tezuka’s in peak form today.’_

“MOTHER FUCKER!” He threw the remote control against the nearest wall.

“Hey, I take offense to that. I have never once fucked a mother... at least to my knowledge.”

Atobe slumped back onto his chesterfield, crossing his arm over his chest and watching with furrowed brows as his manager picked up the battered remote control.

“Let’s just turn this off.”

He kicked his feet above his glass coffee table, “Oshitari, what do you want?”

“Here check this out.” He was handed a flyer, “The grand opening of Ohtori and Shishidou’s bar and grill is this weekend. I think it’ll do us some good to take a break and check it out.”

“Hahh?” He arched a brow.

The navy haired man blinked, “Ohtori and Shishidou’s new restaurant-”

“I heard you the first time.” He interrupted, “I’m just wondering why the hell you want me to grace those traitors with my glorious presence.”

“They’re our friends. Shishidou in particular has been our friend since high school.” Oshitari stated blankly.

“They’re no friends of mine.” He huffed. Because if Shishidou had been a good friend, he would have never stolen Ohtori from him. And if Ohtori had been a good friend, he would have never resigned his position as his nutritionist and sports therapist to open some low-grade restaurant with his boyfriend. Especially when he needed them the most after falling from 3rd seed to whatever the hell ranking he was at now.

“See? It’s that kind of attitude that drives away the people who work for you.” Oshitari sighed.

“I’m the King.” He reminded, “I don’t need pupils who don’t follow me. Ohtori, Shishidou and Sakaki can all fuck off.”

“Speaking of Sakaki, I need to find you a new coach.” Oshitari made a note, “And mind you, that that in itself is quite a challenge. You’re becoming quite notorious these days. Ahh... and I really wanted to drink this weekend! Knowing Ohtori, he’d open the bar to us...”

* * *

Fuji Shusuke opened his eyes.

This was the best part of getting his makeup done. Shaking off the smell of powder, he blinked at his blue-eyed reflection and grinned.

“You did an amazing job on my eyes!” He admired aloud at the bold contouring job.

“Thank you Fuji-san!” His makeup artist was now furiously blushing, “We’ll do another retouch before you go on stage. I-I’ll see you then!”

“See you!” He smiled and gave the stuttering girl a wave.

And now, it was only a matter of waiting. From the schedule he was going to be the third guest interviewed, which meant he still had a lot of time to sit back and relax. He took a seat in a comfortable looking couch in the corner of the room facing a television. Hm... He flipped through the channels. Nothing of interest. Then basic sports news. A highlight reel of a moderately popular tennis player Hiyoshi Wakashi... Oh... and he has a new coach. Sakaki Tarou... where did he hear that name before?

Before he could think any further, his phone buzzed. Fishing through his pockets he pulled it out and scanned his new messages. Booking for another photo shoot, a confirmation for a magazine interview this weekend... and Kikumaru Eiji! He opened the text message to a photo of a bespectacled brunet working on stomach crunches. Without a second thought, he had his phone pressed up to his ear waiting for the redhead to pick up.

‘Hoi hoi?’ It was Eiji.

“Are you busy?” He asked.

‘We’re in the middle of practice, but I’m here sitting in the corner waiting for you to show up on Megumi and Makoto’s talk show.’

“Oh?” He was curious, “How’s practice going?”

‘As usual...’ The redhead replied, ‘Ochibi-chan’s slacking a little. But nothing out of the ordinary. How about you?’

“I’m just waiting.” He shrugged, “I think they’re still on the first guest.”

‘Speaking of the first guest star, get me Hiroto-sama’s autograph!’

“Did you see the selfie I posted with him in the dressing rooms?” He chirped, “It’s uploaded onto my twitter!”

‘Nya! I’m so jealous!’ Eiji grumbled.

“I could say the same thing.” He countered, “A pic of Tezuka, doing an abs workout? Please.”

‘I knew that would get your attention.’ The redhead was undoubtedly grinning, ‘Because now that you’re retiring from tennis, I was hoping you’d have extra time on your hands to finally work on your relationship and get back together.’

“Is that why you keep sending me pictures?”

‘Eh?’ Eiji was feigning ignorance, ‘I would never do something so obvious!’

“Oh please, I know you too well.” He joined in the redhead’s laughter, “But unfortunately, I’m fully booked out. Shiraishi’s been bugging me to do a photo shoot. Then I’m off to France again. Irma wants me to walk in one of her shows, and I always have a hard time saying no to her fun designs. She usually lets me keep the outfits too. Besides, I doubt Tezuka wants to get back together. Need I remind you that he’s the one who broke up with me.”

‘He’s not perfect.’ Eiji pointed out.

“No.” He shrugged, “But he’s pretty damn close... But hey, when I get back want to go for drinks?”

‘Sounds good!’ Eiji chirped, ‘We never really celebrated your retirement yet.’

There was a knock on the door, “Fuji-san, five minutes.”

‘You’re about to go on?’ Eiji overheard, ‘I’m watching it right now. Makoto-kun’s off the rails!’

“I’ll call you later.” He blew a kiss through the phone.

‘Chuuu!’ Eiji replied likewise, hanging up.

It was almost time.

 He stole a final glance at the television screen... Oh. It was Atobe Keigo. The proclaimed King of Tennis.

Then it occurred to him why that name Sakaki sounded so familiar. Sakaki Tarou was the latest of the Atobe’s coaches. But then that meant... What a shame... Atobe Keigo has always been rumoured to butt heads with his coaches, but Sakaki lasted for a few months... a few months longer than most. He was developing quite the notorious reputation befitting of his nickname.

But Fuji wasn’t one to judge.

They had never met in person or in competition, but from what he saw on screen Atobe was always an admirable player and always dominant on court. He’s a natural-born leader with a natural power and glorified sense of authority behind all his actions. He took his wins with great pride and his losses harder than anyone else. Tezuka always did mention what a challenge the dark haired man always gave him.

Though recently, word around was that the King was in a slump. From the four major tournaments, Australia and Roland Garros were cringe worthy performances. Atobe seemed to recover at Wimbledon, but then met against Tezuka early on in the US Open. And for those keeping score of the rivalry, Tezuka always won. Nonetheless, Atobe Keigo had a certain charisma that drew in followers. And Fuji would be lying if he said he never once got swept away by the momentum and started rooting for the King. So it was kind of regretful seeing the King sink to new lows.

“We’re ready for you Fuji-san!”

He smiled, “Coming!”

* * *

“Ah!” Megumi squealed, “We have with us the beautiful Fuji Shusuke! Wow! I didn’t think it possible but you’re prettier in person!”

“An absolute angel!” Makoto pumped a fist.

And Fuji maintained his smile, “Oh please! You both flatter me too much!”

“So I hear you’re retiring from tennis.” Makoto’s exaggerated facial expression was one of the many reasons people tuned in to their show.

“That’s right!” He turned towards the audience who were making sounds of disappointment.

“How’s that possible? Retiring at your age! ... You don’t mind me saying it right?” Megumi was leaning forward in her seat.

“You wouldn’t dare!” He joked, “But go ahead.”

“24 years old!” Megumi squealed once more.

“EH?!” Her co-host butted in, “Shouldn’t you be at your peak right now? Most tennis players retire in their thirties! You have so many years left!”

“But let’s be honest Makoto-kun.” He graced the male host with his best smile, “This year hasn’t been the best for me.”

“What are you talking about?!” Megumi gasped, “You just came back from New York’s fashion week! You were the best model there! So many designers were singing your praise! Not to mention your perfume commercial is all anyone’s talking about these days! And then there’s famed photographer Shiraishi Kuranosuke-sama who just released his second album featuring you! You need to tell us... are the dating rumours true?”

“I meant tennis Megumi-chan.” He laughed, “Starting from the New Year, I didn’t qualify for the Australian Open... or Wimbledon... or the US Open.”

“Well the US Open was a given. The later half runs right into fashion week, and I’m sure you were busy prepping with the designers.” Megumi defended.

“That’s certainly true.” He smiled sheepishly, “But I did make it to the French Open! ... Though I got knocked out in the third round.”

“Couldn’t you have rescheduled the date? Correct me if I’m remembering this wrong, but didn’t you just fly in last minute from a photo shoot in the African savannah?” Makoto was checking his notes.

“I can’t just reschedule the French Open over jetlag!” He laughed, “Besides, I don’t think I’m up to competing anymore. Have you seen Akutsu Jin? The muscles on that guy!”

“His body is magnificent!” Megumi clapped her hands together.

“Tell me about it!” Fuji joined in, “And I can fawn over his muscles all I want, but it doesn’t change the fact that my arm is going to snap in half trying to return one of his balls.”

“And we wouldn’t want that!” Megumi furiously nodded her head in agreement.

“The tennis circuit isn’t what it used to be. Nowadays, it’s just a muscle show.” He exaggerated a sigh, peeking from the corner of his eyes at the swooning audience.

“Speaking of the hard hitters, you train in the same camp as number one seed Tezuka Kunimitsu.”

“That’s right.” He winked.

“Oh?” Makoto was leaning in, “Last I heard, he just came home with a big golden trophy.”

“That’s right!” He smiled, “While I was walking the catwalk in New York, he was walking his way to the US Open finals. I’m very happy for his success!”

“More important than that... Do you know if Tezuka-sama is seeing anyone?” Megumi asked.

“Oh please! Like the great Tezuka-sama would go for an old hag like you!” Makoto stuck his tongue out.

“I’m like wine! I get better with age!” The female co-host defended herself.

“I can’t say for sure. He’s constantly travelling for any level tennis tournament that can squeeze into his schedule and my modelling keeps my own schedule so tight that I actually haven’t seen Tezuka in several weeks.” Fuji interrupted their banter, “But one thing I do know for certain is that my little kohai Ryoma-chan is single.”

“Great!” Makoto was standing on the desk by this point, “So to all you middle school girls at home: Echizen Ryoma the most eligible 13 year old is single and looking!”

The studio audience at this point was clapping their hands, laughter filling the air.

“Now despite this entire interview, you’re quite the tennis expert.” Makoto had to remind the audience.

He laughed, “That’s debatable.”

“So we’re going to play a game.” Makoto started off, “We’re going to look at the Japanese professional scene and you’re going to predict next year’s outcome.”

“And hotness meter.” Megumi hastily added.

“Let’s play!” He clapped his hands together, as the audience cheered.

The male co-host shuffled the papers on his desk for show, “So let’s start things off with your very own kohai: Echizen Ryoma.”

“Hm...” He tilted his head in thought, “He might get bullied around for being a newcomer, but he’ll make an impact next year. Please keep an eye on him!”

“Hotness meter?” Megumi reminded.

“Saa...” He chuckled, “He’s turning 14 this December. That’s illegal Megumi-chan.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She pouted, “I’ll let this one slide.”

“Next has to be Tezuka Kunimitsu.” Makoto continued.

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind he’ll stay at the top.” Fuji didn’t hesitate to reply, “And... he’s red hot.”

“Agreed!” Megumi gave a double thumbs up.

“Sanada Genichirou.” Makoto made a funny face.

“Gen-chan, huh?” He hummed.

“Eh? Gen-chan? GEN-CHAN?!” Makoto and Megumi were laughing at the nickname.

And Fuji knew the straight-laced Sanada wouldn’t find humour in this, but his coach Yukimura would most definitely.

“He’s a hard worker. But I don’t think his results will be any different from this year.”

“Ah...” Makoto was tapping his chin, “So another mediocre year for the Emperor!”

“Hey!” He defended, “Those are your words, not mine.”

“And?” Megumi was leaning forward in her seat.

“Gen-chan’s ice cold.” He pretended to shiver (again, the ever serious Sanada wouldn’t find this funny, but Yukimura would love this), “But I have to admit he has the hottest butt.”

The co-host and audience burst out in laughter once more.

“Now let’s talk about Hiyoshi Wakashi.” Makoto continued.

“He’s still really fresh.” Fuji admitted.

“But he does have seasoned coach Sakaki now.” Megumi pointed out.

“To be honest, I can’t really say.” He hummed in thought, “Hiyoshi-kun has never really gotten the opportunity to show himself yet.”

“So another disappointing year ahead for the young star.”

“Again, these are your words. Not mine.” Fuji reminded the studio audience.

“And since we mentioned coach Sakaki, our next pro-player has to be Atobe Keigo.” Makoto carried on.

“Atobe Keigo.” Fuji repeated. And he could feel the momentum he had built in the interview die down, as the audience patiently waited for him to continue. Except, his mind was drawing a blank... because anyone could see that the King was crashing and burning. But there was no way he was going to say that live on air, he had to maintain a semblance of neutrality. Except... this wasn’t like Atobe Keigo who once peaked at 3rd seed before his decline. This was a King without a castle, set for failure...

It wasn’t right.

“Fuji-kun?” Megumi prodded.

Right... He had to say something.

Something...

He closed his eyes.

This wasn’t in rehearsals...

And Fuji Shusuke remembered the words of his old coach... She always pointed out that he was a little too impulsive, too emotional, and a little too hard to control. It was probably for this reason that he was allowed to pursue his modelling career to the extent that it had gotten, completely overshadowing his tennis aspirations much to his coach’s disappointment. And it felt like he was once again getting swept away.

* * *

“Coffee-black!”

“Here.” Atobe murmured, grabbing the cup from the barista.

He was currently nursing the worst hangover. Because upon forbidding Oshitari to go to the grand opening of some traitors’ new bar and grill, he had to somehow make it up for the navy haired man. So they went to the nearest lounge for some drinks. And he might have had a shot too many...

He felt sick.

But coffee seemed to help.

And he stepped outside of the cafe... Fresh air also seemed to help.

But enough of that. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Because having a nice uninterrupted smoke was the best hangover cure. And it wasn’t like his old coach was still around to condemn his tobacco habit. He breathed out a stream of smoke... ahh, he really needed this. Letting the cigarette hang from his mouth, he pulled out his phone. Knowing Oshitari, the navy haired man would still be unconscious in a bathtub somewhere.

But this was odd...

His phone was blowing up.

Strange...

And a lot of missed calls from someone who should be unconscious at the moment.

He gave his manager a call.

‘Holy shit! Finally! Why don’t you answer your phone?!’ For someone who drank an entire bottle of tequila by himself, Oshitari sounded quite chipper.

“It was on silent.” He could feel his headache returning.

‘Where were you last night?!’

“I was with you. Getting drunk.” He reminded with a frown.

‘But after that? I tried reaching you!’

“Ahn?” The navy haired man wasn’t making any sense, “I just stayed at a hotel.”

‘What? Why?!’

“You need to chill.” He pointed out, “There was no way I was making it home last night. Besides, it’s convenient. I don’t have to clean up after myself.”

‘... Did you puke?’ Oshitari sounded genuinely curious.

“I’m not you.” He stated matter of fact.

‘So where are you now?’ His manager was one persistent fucker.

“Got a coffee.” He was frowning by this point.

‘Well, have you seen the news? Picked up a newspaper? Checked your live feeds?!’

“No.” What the hell was Oshitari going on about?

‘J-Just get to your condo. Hurry up!’

“Is there a fire?”

‘IT’S AN EMERGENCY! SHUT UP AND JUST DO IT!’

Atobe hung up and pocketed his phone away. Hailing a cab, he just hoped that whatever emergency sobered Oshitari up to that extent would work on him too. This migraine was no joke.

* * *

Fuji Shusuke didn’t get a wink of sleep in last night.

And he refused to check his phone, open a TV or do anything social media related.

And before his mind could drift off and replay last night's events, he had to think of something else... anything else!

He needed to start from the beginning. That’s right... it was always about tennis. His younger brother Yuuta fell in love with the sport after watching some older kids play in the street tennis courts near their house. As a young boy, Yuuta was fairly shy... so he accompanied him to tennis lessons. They played together. And he discovered that he had a knack for it. Before he knew it, he was sucked into the tennis world. And he loved it. He fell in love with the thrill of the game, the excitement and the victory highs. There was a point in his life where everything was about tennis. His coach, the team supporting him... they became family. Then he met the very first love of his life...

What changed?

Because at some point, he lost the motivation and his inspiration. He didn’t feel that usual streak of innovation, as he tried and tested new signature moves to add to his repertoire. Something was a little off... And before he knew it, the photo shoots and interviews were less and less tennis centered and he found himself gracing the covers of fashion magazines more and more often. He was drowning in a new world of glamour and glitz, alluring outfits and stunning makeup.

Then a few years later, he experienced his first heartbreak. And it should have hurt more, because to this day there wasn’t a moment in time he didn’t feel an ounce of regret. But he didn’t have time to look back. Every day was an adventure and he was constantly updating his live feeds. One moment he was sitting atop an elephant for a fashion shoot, the next he was across the world walking on a brightly lit floor blinded by the flashing camera lights and drowning in the cheers of a roaring crowd.

Just like with tennis, he was again getting swept up.

And before he knew it, he became a fixture in the fashion world and an inspiration to designers everywhere. Eventually, he started to date again. Granted, they were nothing like the first time... but it was enough to last a month here and there before inevitably falling apart due to the pressures from both tennis and modelling. And as exciting as everything was, it was getting to be too much. Other than old recordings, a bookshelf of magazines and albums, and a few ribbons and trophies, at the end of the day he had nothing else. Something was missing... And he was just so very tired.

He had to choose.

It wasn’t hard. With modelling slowly taking over his life, he was slacking off at practice. He started to focus on workouts that would accentuate his more desirable physical qualities than focus on training to improve his games. He couldn’t keep up anymore. At some point, he had stopped being a tennis player and his side modelling gig had become a full time profession.

But again, he was just going with the flow.

He had to make a decision.

Though he couldn’t play anymore, it didn’t mean that he was completely out of the picture.

But what else could he do?

Again, he was getting swept away once more.

And he could feel that familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach, the excitement rising up and constricting his chest in a pleasant squeeze.

He could feel the corners of his lip widen and curve into a smile that was pinching at his cheeks.

This was happening.

And he hoped he wasn’t dreaming.

* * *

Atobe Keigo sat inside the cab. Lowering his sunglasses the slightest down the bridge of his nose, he tried to get a better view of the front of his condo. To his knowledge, there were a few other celebrities who shared this building with him. After all, the security of this place was impeccable. But from his earlier conversation with his manager, he had to assume that the hoard of paparazzi were all for him. And there were certainly more mosquitoes buzzing around than usual, strange considering this was the off months for him. And he usually loved the attention... except he didn’t have the best year and was sick of all the talk comparing him unfavorably to the oh-so-great undefeatable Tezuka Kunimitsu. Then add a hangover on top of that, he was in no mood to push past this crowd.

But it wasn’t like he could sit all day in this cab.

And he was here already.

Fuck it.

They already spotted him.

As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by an onslaught of flashing lights and reporters trying to talk over each other. It did wonders for his already throbbing migraine. And he did his best to push past them, picking up some key words here and there...

... His coach?

Fuck Sakaki. Fuck those condescending assholes. He didn’t need a coach.

... Something about tennis?

Fuck tennis. And Tezuka can die in a ditch for all he cares.

... And something about Fuji?

Fuck Fuj- ... hold on... as in Fuji Shusuke?

They’ve never met in person or had the opportunity to play against each other in competition, but he knew enough of the honey haired brunet. He even went out of his way to buy some picture album that featured the pretty brunet and made a mental note to pick up the second album in the collection that was released just a few days ago. And even if they never actually met, they managed to maintain a fairly neutral relationship despite his rivalry with Tezuka Kunimitsu who shared the same coach and training facilities as the lovely tennis pro turned model. So there was no significant drama there, or any way it would relate to him otherwise. Besides, it’s laughable to think Fuji Shusuke could consider himself a pro-player. From this last year alone, Fuji must have spent more time gracing the pages of magazines than on court.

“Get in here.” Oshitari was now gripping him by the arm, pushing past security to the safety of the front lobby.

He blinked.

“Damn... you look horrible.” The navy haired man pointed out.

“I just woke up.” Atobe explained, “My schedule today was: get coffee, come back here to sleep, maybe eat something later. I didn’t think I’d have to impress anyone today.”

“Granted, I had plans to sleep in Gakuto’s tub all day.”

“Knew it.” He rolled his eyes, “By the way, what’s with the crowd?”

“You have a new coach.” Oshitari explained, as they took the elevator to the highest floor.

“And you said it would be trouble finding someone new.” Atobe mocked.

“... I didn’t though.” Oshitari corrected.

“Ahn?” He arched a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You know Fuji Shusuke, right?”

“I have his picture book.” He reminded.

“... Right.” Oshitari coughed, “Well last night when you and I were getting plastered, he was on Megumi and Makoto’s late night talk show.”

“Nothing new there. Those talk and variety shows love him.” He shrugged, “Besides didn’t he say on twitter that he was retiring?”

“As a player.” Oshitari corrected, “But he announced on the show that he was going to start coaching.”

“Oh? Who?”

“You.”

“Hahh?”

“That’s what I said!” Oshitari exclaimed, “Here... check out this clip.”

He took a hold of the navy haired man’s phone and tapped the screen to play.

_‘-another disappointing year ahead for the young star.’_ The male co-host Makoto was always insufferable with those weird faces.

_‘Again, these are your words. Not mine.’_ And Fuji Shusuke was as flawless as ever. By this point, the pretty brunet was so experienced at these talk shows that he made it look way too easy.

_‘And since we mentioned coach Sakaki, our next pro-player has to be Atobe Keigo.’_

_‘Atobe Keigo.’_ Fuji repeated, and then paused.

He arched a brow. This was definitely odd. Fuji wasn’t one to blank out during an interview.

_‘Fuji-kun?’_ Megumi was her usual insufferably animated self, as she seemed to take note of the sudden change in the interview’s pace.

_‘Well...’_ Fuji seemed deep in thought, _‘... He’s the King, isn’t he?’_

_‘A-ah... is that so?’_ Megumi let out an awkward laugh, her overly-bubbly persona faltering.

_‘So more troubles ahead for the kingdom?’_ Makoto was trying to get the interview back on track, and Atobe had to scowl at this comment.

_‘I think that a king is only as strong as his people.’_ The smile on Fuji’s face returned and it seems like the pretty brunet recovered from his prior blunder... _‘That’s why it has to be me.’_

... Scratch that.

_‘Ehhh?’_

And it seemed like the two co-hosts and the entire studio audience had the same reaction he was having right now.

_‘It has to be me.’_ The honey haired brunet repeated, _‘A king always needs an advisor. And I think together, we can reach the top. He’s just never had a coach like me.’_

_‘EHHH?!’_

Makoto was first to recover, _‘I don’t think anyone’s ever had a coach like you. You don’t coach.’_

_‘And I’ll try my best! So please lend us your support!’_ The smile across Fuji’s face was blinding, _‘Oh... and Megumi-chan? I’d say our King-sama is hot... Extremely so.’_

The video stopped.

“... So?” He could hear Oshitari prod after a moment of silence.

“Is this a joke?” He returned his manager’s phone.

“Well... Fuji’s famous for his pranks.” Oshitari acknowledged.

“He’s pranking me then?”

“Could be...” The navy haired man was also frowning, “... Says here that the highest he ever seeded was 56. He still made the top 200. I mean, that’s not bad considering his shift to modelling. I don’t blame him... he has a pretty face and it’s made the world a better place.”

Nothing was making any sense, “Why doesn’t Fuji stay in his own camp? I know what that old hag Ryuzaki’s like. She wouldn’t mind putting Fuji in an assistant coaching position.”

“Good question.” Oshitari hummed, “But did he call you hot. Extremely so. So maybe you’re his type? Like... I understand Echizen. He’s waaay underage. And I know they have other players in their camp who haven’t had their breakthrough yet. There’s Momoshiro... and I think the other is Kaidoh? Both on the younger side and the latter constantly wears a stink face. Not very attractive. What confuses me is Tezuka.”

“I’m being serious.” He glared.

“And Tezuka’s seriously good looking.” Oshitari pointed out, “Still, if this isn’t a prank then it does help out your staffing issues.”

“Listen... I don’t need a coach, and at this point it’s better if I coach myself.” He pointed out, “Fuji has no experience.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Oshitari replied, “From the moment I met you and since I can remember, you’ve always gone for the quoted best coach. And they never worked out. I’m surprised you even made a name for yourself.”

“Surprised?” He scoffed, “I have never once given up and always do my best for myself and my supporters.”

“Okay.” The navy haired man shrugged, “But you can only go so far on your own. And it _does_ help to bring in a different perspective. Like Fuji said: A king needs an advisor.”

“Don’t go quoting Fuji.” He rolled his eyes.

“Then let’s look at Fuji.” Oshitari suggested, “Sure he only peaked at 56th seed, but he can definitely play. He’s fragile, so he needed to adapt his play style to handle the heavy hitters. The skill is there. And he knows his tennis.”

“He also knows how to take nude photos.” He had to point out.

“You complaining?” Oshitari looked offended.

“No.” He frowned, “But he can’t coach.”

“We don’t know that yet.” Oshitari reasoned, “Besides, it’s better than what you have now. Forget a coach, we need to hire a new team. And forget having a new team when you don’t have a training facility. We can’t go back to Sakujii’s gym. That’s Sakaki’s home base, and need I remind you that he left. And Sakaki leaving on top of the year you had is leading to even more problems. A few of your sponsors are pulling out. I think only Smartware Computers is left. So you can bitch and moan about Fuji all you want, but you have to admit that he has a lot of sponsor support. And sure, Fuji might end up being a terrible coach. But then you can just add another notch to your failed coaches belt. But while he’s here, you can take advantage of the fact that he trained in the same camp as Tezuka. So if you ever want to defeat your nemesis, Fuji probably knows how.”

He always hated it when Oshitari made sense.

“I just hope this is a prank.”

“I don’t. I’d be a lot happier coming into work to his beautiful face than your fugly mug.”

“Oh please. I ranked top ten in the list of a hundred sexiest men alive.” He countered.

“That was two years ago.” His manager corrected, “And their voting system is weird.”

“Fuji called me hot.” He reminded, “Extremely so.”

“Shut up.”

“You jealous?”

**To be continued.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> From time to time, I need an Atobe x Fuji fic in my life. And I suppose tennis is a thing... But seriously, this story is kind of inspired by the atmosphere in Yuri!!! On Ice. I NEED MORE FLUFF AND SPARKLES!!!


End file.
